


O Resto Vem

by newyorktopaloalto



Series: An Invincible Summer [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Also apparently Grantaire/Combeferre became a thing unexpectedly, M/M, R is an idealist trapped in a cynic's body, oops...?, this is turning into a series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:16:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newyorktopaloalto/pseuds/newyorktopaloalto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Combeferre thought he could help out with Les Amis changing the world— he believed in Grantaire, and R was petrified that if he did try to help, he would fuck it all up."</p>
            </blockquote>





	O Resto Vem

**Author's Note:**

> Title means, "The rest comes," and is by Caio Fernando Abren.

“How did you get the police to cooperate with you for so long?” 

Grantaire glanced up from his notebook, raising an eyebrow at Combeferre. The other man was standing above him, only taking a seat as R’s head tilted in a silent invitation. After a moment of just staring at Combeferre, smirking inwardly as the taller man shifted, actions showing the hesitation in his question even if his face was placid. Grantaire sighed, taking off his reading glasses as he closed his notebook with his free hand. 

“When?” he asked, glancing around the back room of the Musain, trying futilely to get out of the conversation. 

“Wall Street— though any advice, even about foreign police, would be valuable.” 

“Well obviously, in the end, it was absolutely ineffective,” Grantaire pointed out, slightly ashamed of the fact that Combeferre’s red face made him want to laugh. 

Instead of saying anything, however, Combeferre just continued his stare, his unflinching gaze making Grantaire be the one to shift uncomfortably. Well, he would obviously have to answer the bespectacled man, in fear of the little sanity that he had left. 

“Try to make allies inside enforcement and government,” he started, breath slowly escaping his lungs as he wished— like everyday, for a drink. “Then you try to stay as legal and peaceful as possible. You get your permits, make sure everything’s legit, you know? Working with the city and the government can be hard, especially if it’s what you’re protesting, but it’s the only way you’ll be able to spread your word for longer than an afternoon. The devil you know type of thing.” 

Combeferre’s eyes were fixed on Grantaire, and a moment after R stopped speaking, he nodded slowly, face scrunched as if processing the information. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, finally, “this really helped.” 

He stood up, turning away, before whirling back around to face Grantaire once more. “You could help us a lot, you know, we could really use an expert like you to help lead.” 

And with that he left, whispering something to Enjolras, who nodded, brow furrowed as he glanced at Grantaire, before quickly turning away. This left Grantaire with his thoughts, a glance from the man he loved, and the knowledge that he could once again make a difference. 

He needed to throw up. 

***

Grantaire paused in his almost frantic typing, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as he let his reading glasses fall onto the keyboard in front of him. He needed to finish this last damn assignment for the semester, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Combeferre’s words. His tongue darted out to lick his lips unconsciously before he sucked the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth. Fuck, this was going to cause problems. There was a reason why he felt the way he did, or at least tried to feel that way, and he could only stare in abject horror as everything he tried to forget started to rush back through his blood. Combeferre thought he could help out with Les Amis changing the world— he believed in Grantaire, and R was petrified that if he did try to help, he would fuck it all up. Well, it was less of a chance of screwing up and more of an inevitability; it happened after Palestine— the first time he thought the world might be incurable, and then after Wall Street. He didn’t know if he could try to change again, especially with what happened in Egypt. 

He couldn’t do it, why did Combeferre think he could? Why did Grantaire feel his heart skip at the thought of changing again? Why did he want to call and offer his services? 

He wasn’t going to do it. He couldn’t do it, and he was stupid and Combeferre was, and Enjolras, and everyone else who thought he was capable of helping. 

***

Grantaire grinned, his crooked front teeth in full display to his companion. He hadn’t felt this amazing in a long time, and his friend smiled along with him, laugh almost melodic as he leaned his body in closer to Grantaire’s, shoulders bumping amiably. 

“This was a great idea,” he murmured as if it were a secret. 

“It always is,” Grantaire replied, his head resting on the crook of the taller man’s neck, closing his eyes blissfully. 

“Well, this is only my third time with recreational drugs,” R’s pillow commented wryly, and Grantaire snickered before offering up the joint he held in his hand. 

“Thanks.” 

“No problem, babe,” Grantaire enthused, curling his body closer as he turned his head slightly to hazily watch the tv show. 

“What episode is this?” he asked, voice low as he let the other figure it out for him. 

“A Piece of the Action,” Combeferre replied after blowing out his smoke, breath close enough for Grantaire to breathe some of it in, in a parody of a shotgun. 

“You and your Star Trek,” R joked fondly, fingers playing idly with Combeferre’s. 

“Grantaire, you watch The West Wing, you don’t get to make fun of what I watch.” 

Grantaire hummed his agreement and closed his eyes as he listened to Combeferre breathe steadily into the side of his neck, Grantaire’s body falling up and down slowly as Combeferre’s chest moved in the rhythm of Grantaire’s own. There wasn’t a particular answer to how Grantaire had continuously ended up in this sort of position with Combeferre, but as time went on he realized that he didn’t much actually mind. If anything, Combeferre’s presence soothed Grantaire’s normally frantic mind, the other’s calm demeanor making Grantaire want to just curl up into the other’s lap and never leave the warmth of watching Star Trek, fingers carding softly though his hair, and a chest moving against his back. 

“I think,” Grantaire whispered after a few silent minutes; Combeferre turned his face down to set his almost piercing gaze onto Grantaire’s half-lidded one. “I think I would like to try and start helping.” 

Combeferre didn’t say anything, and R was grateful that the other understood he had more to say on the matter. 

“I mean, I probably won’t be any help or anything, and half of the time I’ll struggle to actually believe that what I’m saying is right. I have PTSD and clinical depression, I’m more cynical than any one person should be and sometimes— mostly all of the time, I don’t even believe that humanity can be changed. But I want to help. I suppose, more than anything else, I want to be proven wrong, you know?” 

Grantaire’s eyes were close to pleading as he looked up at Combeferre, almost beseechingly, as the other man nodded, smiling gently down at him. 

“I completely understand, and I will do everything in my power to have you help us.” 

“Well,” Grantaire started, leaning up to get closer to Combeferre’s face, “it should be fun to convince—“ 

Grantaire’s statement was interrupted by a soft press of lips against his own, and he kissed back instinctively, eyes fluttering shut as he enjoyed the gentle pressure. 

“I’ll take care of it,” Combeferre murmured against Grantaire’s lips after a few moments of almost tentative kissing. “We’ll make a believer out of you yet.” 

He smirked, as if knowing his words were almost futile, and laughed as Grantaire gave a rueful snort. Their lips moved against each other for the second time in their lives, and Grantaire hummed as his tongue flicked against the seam of Combeferre’s lips, a motion that caused the bespectacled man to moan softly as he parted his lips for the lazy kiss that Grantaire initiated. 

“What are we doing?” Grantaire asked as he pulled away, breath slightly stilted as he tried to catch it. 

“Does it matter?” Combeferre retorted, raising a pointed eyebrow and watching R with a steady look. “We’re enjoying ourselves, neither of us are in love with the other— I hope, and we’re comfortable with one another. A working friends with benefits, if you will. If one of us starts to feel differently, in any way, we’ll talk it out and decide from there.” He stopped after that statement, his throat moving soundlessly as he swallowed. “How does that sound?” 

Grantaire, instead of answering verbally, leaned up to take off Combeferre’s glasses, placing them safely on the table before smirking at the now half-blind man. 

“Here, or your room?” he asked rhetorically, before pushing Combeferre down onto the cushions of the couch, all the while planting little kisses down the other’s neck. 

“Obviously here,” Combeferre laughed, tilting his face away from Grantaire’s mouth, trying to get the other to place his fluttering lips where Combeferre wanted them. 

“Actually,” he continued, his breath huffing out in a contained whine, “my room might be better. Don’t know when housemates will be back.” 

Grantaire hummed against Combeferre’s collarbone, sucking hard for a moment before starting to sneak his fingers up the hem of the other’s shirt. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, hardly giving a thought to the fact that Combeferre’s housemates consisted of Enjolras and Courfeyrac. “Yeah, okay, good idea.” 

He stood up, letting his hips grind against Combeferre’s for a moment, more teasing than anything, before getting fully to his feet and offering his hand to help the already debauched looking man up. 

“Let’s go to your room, stud,” he winked, nose crinkling in a smile as Combeferre laughed and hooked his fingers in Grantaire’s belt-loops. 

“Sounds great.” 

***

Today was the day. From this point on, he would be on a different path— one that was all-too familiar, yet unheard of in the past two years. He swallowed, eyelids tightening in denial of what he knew was about to come. The body next to his was almost impossibly warm and he curled closer, trying to match his breathing with the sleeping man’s beside him. God, he needed to get out of this somehow; he was sick and tired and he had one too many assignments he had to finish, he couldn’t possibly— 

Combeferre shifted, arms molding around Grantaire as he got used to the new position. Grantaire’s thoughts almost immediately settled and he sighed, knowing that he was only letting his anxiety get the best of him. But even with Combeferre’s steady breath beside his own, he couldn’t help the thrum of sheer terror that pulsated through his nerves. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that this was a turning point in his life, but he didn’t yet know if it would be for good or bad at this premature moment. And God fucking damnit, he couldn’t believe that his semi-functioning brain let him be _that_ terribly cliché. Of course, ninety-nine percent of the time Grantaire’s mind didn’t enjoy obeying, so he really should not have been surprised; for neither the anxiety nor the cynicism Grantaire so ardently employed, could he think of a viable reason that he was acting the way he was. He supposed, however, that he had nothing else to blame but his dysfunctional mind. 

At least, he supposed, he stopped blaming the world at large for his problems. That ship had sailed long ago— high school really gets you out of that phase, and so did well-intentioned parents who sent you to a psychologist for a myriad of pills you didn’t think you needed to take, but did anyways so you could actually do something with your life instead of wasting away like your older sister who eventually, in her despondency, was found in the bathtub, wrists slit and a half-written message on the bathroom mirror in blood. You were about to become the same, genetics had screwed you and you couldn’t help but blame your parents because who the hell thought it was a wise decision to do heroin whilst pregnant? They had changed, you knew, but that didn’t really help matters in the way they thought it would; they had a dead daughter and a son who was barely holding on. And so maybe it wasn’t all your fault, but you could still do something about it. 

R paused and let out the breath he hadn’t been aware of holding. Oh. Maybe that was what everyone was trying to get at. You couldn’t change everything, but why not try to change _something?_

It had been two and a half years since Grantaire felt the undeniable truth in that statement, and he knew he had to hold onto it for as long as he possibly could, before the inevitable cynicism and faithlessness of humanity jaded him once more. 

Today was the day, and for the first time in a long time, Grantaire had the passion and courage to help change the world. 

***

“To help change the world, we must first change our own country. What our government is doing is not enough, and never will be until we force the corrupt out of power. Our people, the constituents, will see what they can do, and they will rise. Humanity, in its purest sense, is an amazing force of good— we just need to tap into that again. Change starts with a tiny spark, but with enough fuel, that spark ignites, bringing about a new day and new hope that we will live in a world that is inherently good. We are the revolutionary generation, and we will stand strong and bring in a new dawn.” 

The end of Enjolras’ speech brought a roar from the crowd that almost engulfed the makeshift stage and spilled into the courtyard behind. Enjolras, an almost Greek God figure in the mid-morning light, smiled blindingly, red coat heaving up with every labored breath he took. There was a glint in his eyes, a kind of revolutionary fervor, and that belief enraptured even those who were before apathetic. If there was one person who could realistically bring in a better society, Grantaire had absolutely no doubt in his mind that it would be Enjolras. He gave a small smile and wave as the blond glanced around the crowd, knowing that the other didn’t actually see him— he was focusing on the turnout, so much more than he probably could have ever expected. 

“You ready?” came a voice from behind him, and Grantaire startled out of his revive. 

“You should wear a bell, I didn’t even hear you come up,” Grantaire teased, turning around and facing the— half flustered from crowd control and half amused from Grantaire’s reaction, face of Combeferre. 

“I often get told that,” he deadpanned, before breaking out into a smile— softer than Enjolras’, yet just as charismatic. “But honestly, R, most of the crowd is waiting.” 

Grantaire nodded and took a deep breath, gliding to the front of the crowd almost effortlessly, Combeferre’s steady hand on his back a guiding force that Grantaire was remiss to say he needed. 

“You ready?” Combeferre asked once more, voice a whisper this time as they mounted the stairs to the podium, Enjolras glancing at the duo curiously. 

“Ready,” Grantaire replied, squeezing Combeferre’s hand as he took another deep breath. 

He walked to the microphone, head held higher than he could recall it having been for a long while. As he stopped, he faced the crowd, gaze almost impassive as he surveyed the suddenly hushed mass. Okay, he could do this; just like Palestine and Wall Street. Just like Egypt. He could do this. Ignoring the whispered yelling from Enjolras and Combeferre— the latter probably telling Enjolras to, ‘calm down, I’ve taken care of it,’ Grantaire let a smile overtake his face and started speaking. 

***

Jehan’s smile was electric as Grantaire moved through the now dispersing crowd, and R smiled back, his slight overbite in full-force as he reached the other man. 

“How was it?” he asked, voice slightly breathless as he whirled Jehan into a hug. 

“Absolutely phenomenal. You almost made me cry,” Jehan replied, grinning as his statement made Grantaire snicker. 

“Thanks.” 

Grantaire kept a hold on Jehan, even whilst speaking to members of the crowd, some he didn’t know, but most who were just glad he was ‘back in the game’ once more. 

“You know everyone,” Jehan remarked as another group passed by just to tell Grantaire how amazing it was to see him again. 

“I had my way about the activism trail,” Grantaire snarked, smirking as he nudged his shoulder against Jehan’s. 

“Suppose so.” 

They fell silent as the let the voices around them soothe the racing blood in their veins slightly. 

“Grantaire,” came the shout from a very pumped up Combeferre. 

“’Ferre,” R replied, laughing as the nickname got him a scowl in return. 

“You were amazing,” the other enthused, getting over his brief glower. 

“Thanks.” 

Combeferre glanced around for a moment, obviously looking for something, before dropping a kiss on Grantaire’s still slightly smiling lips. Jehan stifled a noise, grip tight on Grantaire’s waist, and R knew he had a lot of explaining he was going to have to give later. 

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m so proud of you,” Combeferre whispered, forehead resting against Grantaire’s own. 

“Me too,” Grantaire admitted, a crooked grin setting on his face after Combeferre kissed him once more. 

“I gotta get Enjolras out of shock, but I’ll see you later,” Combeferre promised, running his fingers through R’s hair gently, before turning away to find his best friend. 

The mention of Enjolras made Grantaire freeze. Fuck, he was going to have to deal with that at some point— Enjolras obviously didn’t know about Grantaire speaking and Grantaire was one-hundred percent sure he was going to get screamed at during the ‘after protest’ meeting. Just what he didn’t need. 

“What was that with Combeferre?” Jehan asked, for once oblivious to Grantaire’s racing thoughts. And Grantaire, so he didn’t have to think about his impending evisceration, told Jehan everything. 

***

It had been five minutes since the start of the meeting and Enjolras hadn’t spoken a word. He, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac sat around the ‘front’ table— Enjolras was tapping his fingers against the wood grain, listening to Combeferre and Courfeyrac speak in stage whispers to the blond. The way that the two kept glancing up to where Grantaire was hidden in the corner table, and the fact that Enjolras refused to even look up from his notes suggested the only reason they were talking— they were discussing what Grantaire had done a scant few hours earlier. R knew it had been a bad idea, no matter what Combeferre had continuously said. The turnout, Grantaire surmised, had not been worth the ramifications. He slouched down more in his seat as Enjolras finally stood up, his shoulders hunching in over his body even as Combeferre gave a slight thumbs-up. He so did not need this right now. 

“Grantaire.” 

R looked up, straight into Enjolras’ face, which was much closer than he had expected. Fuck— a one-on-one. 

“Yes, fearless leader?” he asked, trying to keep his bravado up. 

“What you said… Grantaire that was phenomenal.” 

Grantaire blinked, stupefied for a moment, before slowly smiling. 

“What?” 

Enjolras flushed and sat down across from Grantaire. He paused for a few seconds, seemingly collecting his thoughts, before starting once more. 

“I didn’t know you were going to speak, and I was hesitant given you, previous, demeanor with our causes, but how you spoke was— indescribable. Your passion was… You’ve left me speechless, Grantaire. I can’t believe that came from you; I knew what you were capable of, of course, you told me, but to actually see it? I was as breathless as the rest of the crowd. Which, by the way, I’m told I have to thank you for? Your cohorts from your various adventures really drew in a larger crowd than I had been expecting. Thank you, Grantaire, you’re a true help.” 

With that said, Enjolras stopped speaking, expression bright as he waited for Grantaire to respond. 

“Well,” Grantaire murmured, giving Enjolras a small smile, “I suppose I live for surprising people, Apollo. After all, as I have told you before— I am very much wild.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is now a series, and I have no regrets.


End file.
